Wearily I sit and listen To the water's ceaseless drip. To my lip Fate turns up the bitter cup, Forcing me to sip; 'T is a bitter, bitter drink, Thus I sit and think,-- Thinking things unknown and awful, Thoughts on wild, uncanny themes, Waking dreams. Spectres dark, corpses stark, Show the gaping seams Whence the cold and cruel knife Stole away their life. Bloodshot eyes all strained and staring, Gazing ghastly into mine; Blood like wine On the brow--clotted now-- Shows death's dreadful sign. Lonely vigil still I keep; Would that I might sleep! Still, oh, still, my brain is whirling! Still runs on my stream of thought; I am caught In the net fate hath set. Mind and soul are brought To destruction's very brink; Yet I can but think! Eyes that look into the future,-- Peeping forth from out my mind, They will find Some new weight, soon or late, On my soul to bind, Crushing all its courage out,-- Heavier than doubt. Dawn, the Eastern monarch's daughter, Rising from her dewy bed, Lays her head 'Gainst the clouds' sombre shrouds Now half fringed with red. O'er the land she 'gins to peep; Come, O gentle Sleep! Hark! the morning cock is crowing; Dreams, like ghosts, must hie away; 'Tis the day. Rosy morn now is born; Dark thoughts may not stay. Day my brain from foes will keep; Now, my soul, I sleep. THE WOOING A youth went faring up and down, Alack and well-a-day. He fared him to the market town, Alack and well-a-day. And there he met a maiden fair, With hazel eyes and auburn hair; His heart went from him then and there, Alack and well-a-day. She posies sold right merrily, Alack and well-a-day; But not a flower was fair as she, Alack and well-a-day. He bought a rose and sighed a sigh, "Ah, dearest maiden, would that I Might dare the seller too to buy!" Alack and well-a-day. She tossed her head, the coy coquette, Alack and well-a-day. "I'm not, sir, in the market yet," Alack and well-a-day. "Your love must cool upon a shelf; Tho' much I sell for gold and pelf, I 'm yet too young to sell myself," Alack and well-a-day. The youth was filled with sorrow sore, Alack and well-a-day. And looked he at the maid once more, Alack and well-a-day. Then loud he cried, "Fair maiden, if Too young to sell, now as I live, You're not too young yourself to give," Alack and well-a-day. The little maid cast down her eyes, Alack and well-a-day. And many a flush began to rise, Alack and well-a-day. "Why, since you are so bold," she said, "I doubt not you are highly bred, So take me!" and the twain were wed, Alack and well-a-day. MERRY AUTUMN It's all a farce,--these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o'er field and dell, Because the year is dying.